


Friction

by tsv



Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 11:43:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6004711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsv/pseuds/tsv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brock wakes up in a cell, tied to Dr. Venture. This isn't new, except that it's in a position that pretty much forces Doc into his lap.</p><p>Written for the new and improved Venture Bros kink meme, which you should absolutely go post on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friction

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit messy, but I really wanted to contribute something to the [new kink meme](http://ladyofdecember.livejournal.com/3205.html). Please, go check it out and contribute, whether it's a prompt or fill, both are needed!
> 
> Prompt: "Rusty and someone else are chained together. Accidental stimulation occurs. Would prefer the "someone else" to be either Pete White or Brock, but with the exception of Hatred (nothing against the guy, just Rusty/Hatred isn't my bag), I'm up for whatever."
> 
> It's not chains, but hopefully it's what they were looking for.

It wasn't the first time Brock Samson had woken up in a cell, especially next to his grumpy little charge, one Dr. Thaddeus S. Venture. Hell, it wasn't the first time he'd been tied up, either, by far. But it was probably the first time he'd been tied up in this particular... _fashion_.

Wasn't really sure what their intentions were with this one. What was the point of tying Doc _to_ him, chest to chest? Maybe they thought he wouldn't try as hard to escape for fear of accidentally hurting the much smaller man.

His biceps strained against the ropes. Lucky them, they were too strong for him to break through sheer force, anyway — at least not right away. If he got pissed enough, he might be able to manage it. But the tranquilizers were still wearing off.

Rusty whined impotently, wriggling against him. Brock shifted uncomfortably at the weight moving against his crotch. Did they _really_ have to do it in a way that forced Doc into his lap?

"Stop squirming around so much," Brock grunted.

"Well, what do you expect me to do? These ropes _chafe_. I'm gonna get a rash."

He couldn't really argue that. They were starting to dig into his arms something fierce, too. It was rare that you got a villain who cared for the wellbeing of his captives beyond "keeping them alive", so the bondage was rarely comfortable.

Come to think of it, they didn't even know who this particular evildoer was, yet. They'd been somewhere in the middle of a Nicaraguan rainforest when they hit an ambush, and he didn't recognize the dingy cell. The henchmen he'd seen didn't wear anything identifying, just scrappy clothing and guns — some kind of guerrilla forces, maybe? Not the first time Doc had pissed off one of those types.

Brock hoped the boys were alright. Separate room somewhere, probably. As much as they were a perpetual concern in the back of his mind, he was nonetheless relieved that he didn't have to deal with both of them tied up against him, too.

Doc was already starting to get annoying on his own. Well, he was always annoying to some degree, but moreso. And... distracting. His slender legs were, as a matter of positioning, wrapped easily around Brock's waist. And the curve of Doc's ass, ample as it wasn't, was still very much seated right on top of, well, Brock's dick.

Which was starting to perk up at the attention, of course. Shit. _Fuck's sake, don't get hard, not now._ Brock grunted in frustration and closed his eyes, took a deep breath, tried to think of something unarousing. The smell of rotting flesh. Hank's dirty laundry. That old lady he'd walked in on naked once when doing an O.S.I. raid on the wrong apartment. Anything.

"You okay?" Rusty asked after a moment, uncertainty in his voice. Brock opened his eyes, surprised to find him actually looking worried.

"Trying to think of how to get us out of here," he fibbed quickly, and looked away from the scientist biting his lower lip in concern, trying very hard not to think about how it actually looked kind of sexy, especially with the glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose with no way to prop them back up. _Shit. **Shit.** Old women. Dead bodies._

What the fuck was he thinking? Brock Samson was solely a ladies' man. Even as far as men went, Doc was not his go-to idea of an attractive guy. But those warm thighs were grinding against him, his ass practically rocking forward —

"And that involves getting — what, a boner?"

Brock froze, slowly turning his head. Rusty's expression had turned from worried to somewhere between confused and annoyed.

"Maybe if you'd stop grinding against my dick," he retorted weakly. Wow. That... sounded a lot more like a come-on than he wanted it to. Which is to say, you know, not at all. Obviously.

A brief eyeroll from his science-inclined companion. "God, you must _really_ have a thing for redheads."

Right as he was about to argue, Rusty's hips rolled against him, pressing down against Brock's half-erect cock through the fabric of his jeans and earning a quiet gasp.

"What the **hell** are you doing?" He asked breathlessly, trying to make it sound as icy as possible as he stared hard into his employer's eyes. Instead, his voice came out embarrassingly husky, and the eye contact felt more "intimate" than "intimidating".

"We have plenty of time to kill. If you're getting turned on by this, I suppose I can oblige you," Rusty replied coolly, then added, "Weirdo. Not like I have anything better to do, anyway."

Brock looked down, squinting — he could see the tent in Doc's speedsuit. Fucking _liar_. He was getting off on this, too.

"That so?" He grunted, smirking with a hard-set jaw as he pushed upwards, rubbing his cock at the junction between his companion's thighs. Rusty let out a surprised moan, and Brock felt it go right to his groin. "No stake in this one at all, Doc? That why you've got a hard-on, too?"

He _definitely_ wasn't supposed to find this hot. But the way Rusty was suddenly looking away almost _bashfully_ , his cheeks red, made Brock want to rip his damn clothes off.

They fell into an uneven rhythm, pushing and rubbing, layers of fabric covering barely-restrained heated flesh. Brock was achingly hard by now, rocking firmly against the cleft of his tight ass, enjoying the eager little noises it provoked. He closed his eyes, cursed the clothing between them, tried to picture what it'd be like to fuck him. A guy Doc's size would be, unquestionably, incredibly tight.

An image came to mind of the scientist on his back, his shirt pushed up and pants off, squirming and whimpering with an ass full of cock, glasses askew. He grit his teeth, pushed up harder, thrusting as firmly as possible with the awkward positioning.

Judging by the appreciative noises and the bulge rubbing desperately against his abdomen, Rusty was enjoying himself, too. His breathing was getting heavier, more uneven, alternating humping Brock and pushing down against the weight between his legs. Brock could feel those skinny knees lock harder around him, trembling slightly.

"You always get hard from a guy touching you like this, Doc? Or is it just me?"

Rusty looked back at him, his face flushed, mouth hanging open a little at a loss for words. It was somewhere between pathetic and sexy.

"Guess it's me," Brock continued, voice both teasing and low, _predatory_ almost. "You get off riding a fat dick like this, huh? Does it turn you on having me between your legs, _Doc_?"

His companion was visibly affected, bolstering his confidence. Hell, he swore he could almost feel his arousal twitch through the thin fabric of his speedsuit. Brock leaned in, as much as he could with the restraints, and whispered huskily at the shell of his ear. "Bet you've thought about me fucking you before."

He felt Doc shiver at the proximity, the warm breath on the side of his face, saw him bite his lip again. God, that was definitely more than a little sexy. His voice dropped even lower, until it was a bare hiss.

"The O.S.I. should've warned me I was shacking up with a slut."

Rusty stiffened with a gasp. The expression of hot shame and pleasure coloring his face made Brock's blood rush, made him want to fuck him _hard_. A full-body shiver ran through the scientist, and he let out a whine — rocking down against Brock's member once, twice, then going abruptly still, head lolling against his bodyguard's shoulder.

Brock could feel the legs wrapped around him shaking more violently now, and smirked. He felt a little proud of himself. Apparently, he'd gotten Doc to come in his pants.

Dirty talk was a good choice, then. He'd have to remember that one.

Unfortunately, right as he was set to continue, thinking about how to get his own release, he heard footsteps in the distance. Every muscle in his body tensed up and froze.

"Look alive, Doc," Brock grunted, feeling his erection deflating already with a vague sense of regret. Wasn't the first time he'd been cut short of his release during a dangerous situation, but getting his rocks off wasn't as important as escaping. He needed to be focused for this.

Doc, on the other hand, seemed barely aware of what was going on, slowly lifting his head.

Brock smirked again. There'd be plenty of time for that later, without rope and clothes to separate them.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you liked it!


End file.
